


Mirror

by DeepCycle



Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One)
Genre: F/M, Multiple Orgasms, POV Multiple, Transformers as Humans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 05:35:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14710101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeepCycle/pseuds/DeepCycle
Summary: Shortly after the events of Only Human, Springer acquires a copy of the Kama Sutra. Arcee is more than intrigued.





	1. Hers

For the third time today, I try and fail to unlock my own door with a radio ping.

I no longer have a radio in my head.

This synthoid-human body thing has been really difficult to get used to.

I key the lock manually and walk in. Springer’s on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, reading. He looks up when I come through the door and smiles.

With all that’s changed about me, all that’s changed about him, I’m so glad that his smile is the same.

“Hey, Arcee.”

His voice is mostly the same, too. We’ve both lost the mechanical flange and the ability to speak Cybertronian entirely. In exchange, our voices have gained an organic smoothness, and our English feels a little more native. Stacked against everything else we’ve lost, the trade is not a fair one. Luckily, the situation is temporary, so we’ll get what we can out of it before moving on.

Speaking of which… “Hey, Springer. What are you reading?” I set my pack by the door and approach the couch. He picks the book up so I can see the cover. “ _The Complete Kama Sutra_. Ohhh…”

He grins that grin of his when he’s up to all sorts of mischief. “Research. I’m doing research.”

“Can I see?” I sit next to him and he hands it to me. The pictures are… informative. With all that’s been going on, we hadn’t gotten a chance to fully familiarize ourselves with… ourselves. Or each other. Last night was a flurry of rounding up Drath and company, learning how to eat, getting patched up, and collapsing into bed. Today was all about checking up on our real bodies and getting those patched up, briefings with Human authorities, and a few experiments with Perceptor. This moment, right now, is the first that Springer and I really have had to ourselves since the body switch.

I have no doubt what his research is about. “If something’s worth doing, it’s worth doing properly, right?” I give him a sidelong glance.

He grins again. “Exactly.”

“And what have you learned?”

“Well…” He leans into me and turns a few pages back to an introductory section. The parts are vaguely familiar – organic male and female sexual dimorphism is common in the universe, so it’s not like any of this is a complete surprise even if we haven’t had any personal experience with it. The mystery is, of course, in the details. “We’re dealing with the usual male syringe received by the usual female tube.” He points out the illustrations labeled with the proper terminology. “The trick is that most of the female sensory capability is outside of the tube in this little nub, right up here.”

He points to the illustration, and I nod. “Yeah, I noticed that in the shower last night. It’s really sensitive. I figured it was related to the mating process.”

He raises an eyebrow. “How far did you get with it?”

“Not very. I was exhausted. How does your plumbing check out?”

His expression changes from mischievous to mild trepidation. “It works.”

“But?”

“It… doesn’t quite match up with the pictures.”

“How so?”

His smile returns. “Better if you just see for yourself. I _think_ it’s a good thing, but we’ll just need to take it easy. I think this position will work out the best, to start with.” He turns a few pages in and shows me what he has in mind.

I suddenly realize that I’m really warm. I suddenly realize that I really want to be in the position that the woman in the picture is in. I suddenly realize that I really want to be touched in all of these places. I look at Springer, so different, but still the same in all the ways that count, and I suddenly realize that I want him. In whatever ways humans do this, I want to do it with him. Right now. I look at the picture again. “Yeah, I think that can be arranged.”

“Let’s get started, then.” He lifts the book from my hands, closes it, places it on the table, and turns back to face me. His eyes look right into me as he pushes a lock of my hair back behind my ear. Primus, those eyes. That same bright, deep blue. Framed with long black lashes. His pupils dilate as he looks at me, and the muscles of his jaw tighten as his expression turns from mischievous to serious. I slide my hands up his arms as he moves in closer, then pauses. “Assuming you want this whole… sex in alien bodies thing.”

“I do.” I close the distance between us, eyes still open, and brush my lips against his. They’re soft and warm, and I do it again, a little harder, bringing my hands up along his jaw and running my fingers through his short, black hair.

A small noise comes from his throat, and he pushes me down to the couch with gentle ease, maneuvering his hips between my legs. He presses himself into me and I press back, the feel of his weight lighting something in me, igniting physical urges that are at once completely foreign and utterly familiar. He pauses again. “Tell me if this is too much.”

I wrap my arms around him. “This is good.” And it is. He only outweighs me by about twice my weight in these forms; light compared to four times as much in our normal forms. I can handle him in this position just fine. Our lips meet again and I feel the light touch of his tongue. I open my mouth and admit him. He pulls away briefly, catching my eye again, checking in, then dives back down, tongues twined as he presses his hips into mine, setting up a slow, steady rhythm. I shift so he moves into the most sensitive part of me, sliding a hand down his back and over the curve of his butt, holding him against me.

I can’t help but moan as he pulls away just enough to kiss the spot where my jaw meets my neck, just below my ear. Then he moves up and I feel his tongue along my earlobe and… oh, god that feels way more incredible than I expected it to. My body takes over and arches against him and I cry out again. I want him. I need him. I _ache_ for him. The wetness of his tongue, his breath against my neck, his weight upon me, I melt between it all. Finally, I can stand it no longer and I turn my ear away from his mouth. “Get these clothes off.” My voice sounds ragged in my own ears.

He kisses me one more time and sits up, pulling his jacket off. He stands up and offers a hand, pulling me up with him. I see the rise and fall of his chest and notice that my own breathing is hard. I want to _see_ him, and _only_ him. I want him to see me. I bring my hands to the buttons of his shirt and undo them one by one, his eyes once again catching mine. I’m struck by the absence of his energy signature, the absence of any hint of his thoughts or mood in my mind. I have only his behavior and words to tell me how he feels, and I miss the guidance with the bitter solo existence of being locked in my own head. He brings his hands to mine, pausing at the last button. “Everything ok?”

His voice has his usual pre-interface rasp, and I realize he’s read my face, having as little access to my mind as I have to his. “I miss you in my head.”

He bites the inside of his lower lip and brings his hands up to my head, running his thumbs along the corners of my eyes, and only then do I realize the tears that are there. “I miss it too. We’re gonna’ have to talk each other through this. If I don’t give you what you need, you have to tell me.”

I nod. “Same goes for you.”

A small smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. “Take the rest of my clothes off.”

I finish with the last button and push the shirt off over his shoulders, revealing a green T-shirt beneath. My hands go to his belt buckle and undo it, then to the button of his jeans. I notice the hard ridge of his flesh against my knuckles as I pull the zipper down and I notice the heat in my core again. I push the jeans over his hips and kneel to pull them down his legs, and he steps out of them when I reach his ankles, pulling his socks off as I go.

I stand back and take stock. The T-shirt and boxers fit close to his body, broad shoulders, muscled chest and arms, narrow hips, and… and a raging erection threatening to escape the boxers entirely. I feel the immediate urge to rip everything off and impale myself upon it. He holds his hands out, beckoning me back, and I realize I’ve been staring. I bring my arms around his shoulders and feel his hands on my hips as he dips his head for another brief kiss. He brings his face alongside mine and I feel the stubble along his jaw as he brings his lips to my ear once more. “Take the rest of it off. I want to be naked in front of you. I want you to see everything.” His voice is shaking.

I pull back again and see he’s trembling all over, eyes wide, jaw set. I recognize his desire for vulnerability, his need to be at my mercy, to open himself up and be received safely.

I oblige him.

I bring my hands to the hem of his shirt and he raises his arms as I pull it up over his head. I can’t reach his hands, and he finishes, pulling it off over his arms. I run a finger from one shoulder, along his collarbone to the base of his throat, down his sternum, through the sparse hair of his chest, over rock-hard abdominal muscles, pausing briefly at his navel, inserting the tip of my finger in what I hope is a suggestive gesture. I see the corner of his mouth twitch into a quick smile. I continue further down until I hit the waistband of his shorts, his flesh throbbing next to my fingers, pausing.

He brings his hands to my shoulders and closes his eyes. “Good Primus, woman, get on with it.”

I take a breath and pull the band out so it will clear his erection, then pull the shorts down over his hips, where they finally fall on their own.

Ohhh, Primus.

He’s enormous.

Just past navel-high, which, on a 6’2” frame is… well. I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to get my fingers all the way around it.

He’s way bigger than the ones in the pictures.

I’m supposed to fit all that inside me?

Fear and desire battle each other in the deep, hot place low in my belly and I’m at a loss for words.

Springer wraps a hand around the shaft and his fingers, longer than mine, just barely make it all the way around. “It’s… um… yeah.” His eyes search my face as he stands naked before me, begging for approval.

“It’s a challenge I gladly accept.” I step forward, take a knee, and place my lips upon the tip in a gentle kiss. The skin is soft and smooth, the flesh within it is hot and firm.

“Oh god, that’s not fair.” He places a hand on my shoulder and pushes me away, mouth open in a sloppy grin. “I want you naked.”

I stand up and take my own jacket off and watch as his eyes follow my hands, undoing the buttons of my own shirt, pulling it off of my shoulders, undoing the buckle of my own belt, undoing the button and zipper of my own jeans and pulling them off. I stand before him in my bra and panties, watching his eyes roam over me. I’ve seen myself in a mirror already. I see how he looks at me. I know he likes what he sees. I hold my hands out to him. “Come. Finish this.”

He steps forward and the tip of his penis brushes my belly as he brings his fingers to the straps of my bra. He pushes them off over my shoulders, undoes the front clasp, and frees my breasts as I let the bra fall to the floor. He cups one breast in his hand, running a thumb around my nipple in gentle circles until it hardens, sending chills down my spine. He dips his head again and runs his tongue around my nipple. I feel the wetness of it and realize that I want him to do that somewhere else, somewhere lower. I put my hands on his shoulders and push down. “Good Primus man, get on with it.”

He growls one last kiss and proceeds, kneeling before me, looking up at me out of the corner of his eye as he takes the edge of my panties in his teeth. “Please,” I say. He pulls them off over my hips and they fall away. Sliding his hands over my butt, he pulls me to his mouth and I feel his tongue dart between my folds and glide over my clitoris. “Oh. Oh yeah, that wasn’t fair at all.”

He stands up and again catches my gaze with his and I realize I’m trembling. His expression is serious again as his hands run down my spine and he pulls me against him and I feel his erection pinned between us and my breasts against his chest. I press back, arms around his shoulders, and oh Primus, I want him inside me. I bring my lips to his collarbone, then up his neck, along his jaw, and finally his mouth covers mine. I break off just long enough to whisper, “Bed.”

He slides his hands up to the bottom of my ribs and begins to lift. I get the idea immediately and hop up, wrapping my legs around him so he can carry me over to the bed. In one fluid motion, he lays me upon it and settles his own weight upon me, once again resuming gentle thrusts into me for a few short moments.

Only now there is nothing between us, nothing separating the most sensitive part of him from the most sensitive part of me. He pulls his mouth away from mine and backs away, and I moan my disappointment. He brings a finger to my lips and meets my gaze. I recognize the expression on his face, the one that said _be patient_. Good god, my clitoris is _throbbing_ and he wants me to be patient. I grip the sheets and close my eyes, and am rewarded/punished with his lips once again on my left nipple, tongue circling. He slides over to the other side, hands cupping both breasts. Then he moves to my sternum, kissing his way down…

Oh god…

He pauses at my navel, pressing his tongue into me with firm intent, hands sliding down my belly, settling just above my pubic hair, fingers settling into a gentle massage. His mouth moves lower, kissing his way down.

Finally, I feel his breath against my clitoris as he pauses, and I know he’s teasing me on purpose and I love him and hate him for it at the same time. Every muscle in my body tightens in anticipation, waiting with agonized patience, and I can’t hold back a moan.

Oh…

The stubble of his jaw against my thigh. His tongue against my clitoris. Wet. Firm. Gentle strokes against me. He dips lower, tastes my own wetness at the swollen lips of my entrance, then back up to my clitoris. I feel a finger at my opening, testing, probing, sliding in, sliding out, pressing up along the more sensitive ventral surface, and I instinctively tighten around him, slowing his movements. God, if the fit is this tight _now_ … I moan and shudder against him at the thought of his penis displacing its way through me. I need him _now_. “Springer… please…”

His finger slides out, his tongue glides against me one last time, and his lips close around my clitoris to suck for one last gentle moment before parting. He sits up and I’m hot and wet and empty and he’s obviously hot and hard and ready and I’m wondering what the hell he’s waiting for.

He looks down at his hand as he once again wraps it around his shaft. “Would you mind reciprocating? Just enough to lube it up a little…”

I catch his meaning, his ability to torture me for my own benefit once again stabbing me in all the right places. He lays back as I sit up and take stock in what I’m dealing with. He removes his hand and I see the veins wrapping his shaft, topped by a head that manages to be barbed but smooth and tapering at the same time. My clitoris throbs, wanting nothing more than to crush itself against his flesh, the lips of my vulva want nothing less than to be parted by it, my vagina wants nothing more than to seize it, pull it all in, grip it, devour it, to be stretched and pressed… I grip him with my hand and he’s _hard_ … I bring the tip of my tongue to the tip of his penis and hear his moan in my ears and his shaft flexes in my hand… I lick around the tip, whetting it, preparing him. Letting go with my hand, I place my tongue at the base, where it meets his scrotum, pressing firmly, and I delight at the whimper he fails to suppress. I lick my way up in one slow, wet stroke, then take the head in my mouth as well as I can. He can’t help himself from thrusting, but he keeps it slow, keeps it gentle, and I feel his legs tremble against me as I slide my hand up and down his shaft, spreading the wetness of my saliva all along his length.

I hear the sound of his moan once again in my ears and I can take it no longer. I climb him like a ladder and press the length of my body against him. I bring my lips to his ear. “ _Now_.”

“Now,” he agrees, and I feel his hands slide from my knees to my butt, holding me to him, and I finally do what I’ve wanted for what feels like ages.

I grind my clitoris against the tip of his penis, matching his motions with my own. Everything is so wet and slippery and tight and I move so he presses against my opening instead, drawing my finger over my clitoris, tightening against the friction and the pleasure it sends up my spine. The swollen lips of my vulva part around him and I press against him, grinding against the resistance of his enormity against my tightness, and… god… I have serious doubts about getting him inside of me… but… god… intense pleasure radiates out from where we meet, the rhythm is gentle as I rock against him, he stretches me open just a little bit more with each thrust, I feel just a little bit more of him enter me each time. A little deeper, a little wider, and yet I get tighter and tighter with each thrust, and only then do I notice that something inside of me has been building, tight and hot against my belly, and suddenly it grows exponentially…

And…

Oh, god…

It’s like being gripped from the inside out.

Something else takes over me and I don’t care and I throb all over and feel every finger of his hands on my butt and the ridge of the head of his penis sliding in and out of me and I throw my head back and scream and the whole time, the whole time my body squeezes around him in rhythmic contractions, each one sending stabbing pleasure from my clitoris through my legs to my feet through my core and out my breasts through my shoulders to my fingers and…

And it recedes with a slow reluctance, the contractions lose their intensity, I return to myself, and I find myself looking down at Springer, his eyes wide. His hands slide up through the sweat on my ribs and rest on my shoulders. “All good?”

“Oh yeah.” I lean down and bring my lips to his, feel his tongue slide along mine, feel his fingers along my spine as he slides his hands down my back. I pull away a little, just enough so I can look him in the eye. His body is still taut below mine, his breath is still coming in long, deep draws, and I’m still trembling. And I’ve only managed to get the tip of him inside me. What will the rest of it do to me?

That alien thing inside of me, living deep in my core, churns at the thought. _Let’s find out_ , it says. _And let’s find out what it does to **him**_.

I return my lips to his, a brief kiss, and I break it to bring my lips to his ear, and run my tongue along the lobe. He shudders and tightens his hold on me in response. “I hope we’re not done yet,” I whisper.

He draws in a deep breath and grunts as he withdraws his flesh from mine. With another fluid motion, he rolls us both over so he’s now on top, elbows planted above my shoulders, and I wrap my legs around his hips as his eyes bore into mine. “Are you ready?” His voice is thick with lust and I tighten around nothingness, the head of his penis presses against me and slides against the tight wetness there, sliding up into my clitoris. Oh god, am I ever.

“Give it to me. Give it _all_ to me.”

“Tell me you want me.” He presses against me again, teasing.

“I want you.” It’s no lie.

“Say my name.” Another nudge, just a little deeper, but it’s not nearly enough.

“Oh, Springer,” I close my eyes and arch against him, all points of contact between us, my nipples against his chest, my clitoris against his penis, aching with desire. “I want you Springer. I _need_ you, Springer. I need you inside me. I need _all_ of you. Please…” I’m begging now, sliding my hands from his shoulderblades to the small of his back, pulling him in. “Please… please, Springer…”

He takes another moment with his tongue along my earlobe, and I’m right back to where I was before, aching and wet and empty. I slip one hand between us, pressing a finger to my clitoris, unable to stand it any longer.

And then he’s there, probing with gentle thrusts, and again I’m tight around him. His progress is slow but steady, gaining a little more depth each time, opening me up a little more each time before receding again, and soon the ridge at the head of his penis, the widest part of him, passes through the tightest part of me. He pauses for a moment, heat pouring off of him, and I open my eyes to see his already locked on mine. He is still for two breaths holding my gaze, and then he presses forward. I struggle to keep my eyes open as he moves through me, the gentle enormity of him sliding in, then all the way back out, dragging every ridge and vein on the way, then back in, a little deeper, in and out and back again, and I grip around him as hard as I can in slow, even flexes. The alien thing inside of me gathers itself again, but I now know it’s there, I now know to keep my inner eye on it, watch as it coils itself around inside of me.

And then, he’s all the way in. Oh god, he’s pressed all the way through me, I’m wide open before him, penetrated to the fullest extent, utterly impaled by him, the flesh within my own body displaced by his. My legs are locked around him and I’m trembling and he’s trembling and he’s rocking gently into me, touching the deepest part of me, stretching, filling, and I feel his teeth against my shoulder, not biting, but open and pressing, and he’s moaning through the open space between them.

The alien has fully awakened once again and I grip it. I try to control it as it ignites points inside of me, the deepest part of me that Springer rocks against, a spot halfway along the ventral surface of my vagina, the tight and trembling opening of my vulva, my stiff and swollen clitoris, are all now aflame and fully alive, are sensitive to each fraction of movement, and I cry out against the agonizing pleasure as it begins to pulse through me.

With all the warning in the world, Springer’s flesh turns to hot stone and gentle thrusts finally give way to uncontrollable thrashing as his moans turn to sharp gasps.

I feel it all inside of me and I lose it.

I explode once more.

But this time he’s all the way inside of me, sliding in and out, I grip him in seizures and cry his name and he pumps against me, a guttural moan tearing through his throat, and goose bumps raise on his back under my hands as he fills me and I flex against him and the world is lost in thrusts and contractions and…

Full… so full…

He’s panting, breath hot against my shoulder, slowing even as I feel him continue to twitch inside of me, pumping his own wetness into me. He slows to a stop, resting his full weight upon me, and I relax my legs, sliding my feet down his calves. I hear my own name on his voice as he whispers… “Arcee… Arcee… I love you… Arcee…”

Even as I am pinned beneath all 220 pounds of him, even as I am still impaled by his flesh, I hear the vulnerability in his voice, and I run a finger up the sweat-slicked valley of his spine. “I love you, Springer,” I whisper back.

It’s no lie.


	2. His

I hear Arcee fumble with the lock on the other side of the door and do my best not to laugh. My head still hurts from walking into the fucking thing earlier, expecting it to open with a radio ping I no longer have. God, I can’t tell her I did that.

Ok, maybe I will. Later.

She finally gets through the door and I feel the smile on my face. I can’t help it. So much has changed, but she’s still the same in the ways that count. She’s still familiar.

She sets her stuff down and sits down next to me to see what I’m reading. It’s… a manual… of sorts. Spike had gotten word of our predicament, tracked me down in the hallway, gave me this book, said “You’ll thank me later,” winked, and went on his merry way. I’ve been here for an hour, and… learned a lot. Got a little hands-on practice, one might say. Everything seems to work the way it should, but… my proportions are off. I did a little extra research on how to handle that and I think I know what to do, but… I really need to be careful with this thing.

I’m used to being a weapon, and males of sexually dimorphic organic species aren’t above weaponizing their reproductive organs. Cybertronians aren’t the only assholes in the universe, it seems. A lesson I learned the hard way over the last couple of days.

Anyway.

I’ve decided that today, I will not be a tool of war.

All jokes of swordsmanship aside, I will be a tool of pleasure.

I will pleasure Arcee to the fullest extent of my abilities.

Assuming she wants this, anyway.

I show her the book and we trade a few notes on what we’ve figured out so far.

Yeah, I think she maybe wants this.

I set the book aside and take a moment to look at her, pushing a lock of her blond hair back behind her ear. Her eyes are green, now, but the proportions of her face are mostly the same as before. Green is a good color on her, and the thought hits me a little harder than I expected it to. Her eyes are _my_ shade of green. The green armor that used to keep me safe, wrapped around the empty husk of my real body parked in a corner of medbay a mile away right now, leaving me in this squishy little body that I hate so much…

And then she kisses me, running her fingers through my hair.

And… and that’s really nice.

And… a part of me is totally not squishy anymore.

Desire drives me forward and I want to be above her, I want her legs around me, and I somehow manage to make those things happen without much effort. It seems a little too easy, and I realize that I’m still a lot bigger than she is. I back off for a second, tell her to tell me if things get too heavy. Those green eyes, again. Her pupils are dilated. Dilated is good. She gives me the all-clear. I kiss her. I approach a point of no-return. Once I cross it, this plumbing is going to get activated, one way or the other. Either with her or on my own. I break the kiss just long enough to look her in the eye again. Still dilated. Good. Back down I go. I kiss her again, press myself against her, set up a slow rhythm. I want to take my time with her. I want her to be good and ready for this.

I want her to beg for it.

Her hands slide down my back and settle over my butt, pulling me in, moving with me, her breathing getting harder. I break off the kiss and go for her earlobe. Oh, wow… guess I’m doing this right. She arches against me and holds me tight at the same time, and I keep going. God, she’s _writhing_ against me. She cries out in a way I recognize, a way that is still familiar, a way that tells me that things are going well.

She’s ready for more.

I pull my jacket off and pull her up with me. She goes right to work on the buttons on my shirt, but the look on her face darkens as she gets to the last one. I cover her hands with mine, checking in again.

She misses the mental link.

I miss it too, been second-guessing myself this whole time without the flux of her mood and emotion in my head. We’ll have to talk each other through this to compensate for it. She agrees. I tell her to take my clothes off.

She gets as far as my shirt and pants and takes a step back. I let her get a good look, let her get an idea of what she’ll be dealing with. I reel her back in, hold her close against me. I tell her to take the rest of it off. I need her to see. I need her to know.

I’m shaking and I can’t stop it. My heart is hammering in my chest. I can only hope that’s normal.

I help her with my T-shirt, but I let her handle the boxers on her own. God, she really takes her time with it.

I stand before her, naked, needing her to need me. Needing to stop being a soldier and drop my defenses for a few goddamn breems, needing to be defenseless and safe with her.

This… giant syringe of a penis looms out of me, and I’m a little worried about it. Her eyes look like they might fall out of her head. I take the shaft in my left hand… reflex, I think… same hand I use my saber with. I open my mouth and stupid words fall out and…

Oh god… she kneels down and places a kiss at the tip of it. Her lips are soft and warm and Primus help me, I almost lose it right here and now.

I’m going to make her pay for that.

I want her naked. As naked as I am. Even the standings.

She looks me in the eye as she takes her jacket off, undoes the buttons of her shirt, and removes her jeans. She pauses, and now it’s my turn to stare.

My god, she’s magnificent.

Her collarbones underline her shoulders, rounded with toned muscle through her arms. Her bra holds the promise of pert breasts, ribs frame sculpted abs narrowing through her waist, a gentle curve of the hip, strong thighs tapering through sharp calves. Lean and strong. Small, but not dainty. The kind of body that is easy to underestimate, but one that a trained eye knows to treat with caution. The kind of body that can wrap itself around you and snap your spine if it suits her.

Still my Arcee, then.

She beckons me to her to finish the job, and I obey. My penis reaches her before the rest of me, gliding over her belly, and she almost sways into me, taking a deep breath. I slide both straps of her bra off of her shoulders, counting my good fortune for the front-clasp, and it comes away easily, freeing her breasts. I cup one in my hand, running my thumb over her nipple, then duck down to tease it more with my mouth. I love the taste of her, I love the feel of her on my tongue, and god, I want to do the same thing to another part of her.

Her hands on my shoulders, pushing me down.

Ok, then.

I kneel before her and it’s all I can do to keep myself from ripping off the last piece of clothing and plunging myself all the way into her. _Slow. Keep it slow_. I bite the edge of her panties, rolling my eyes back up to catch her gaze to tease her a little more.

“Please…” Oh, that was almost begging. God, I’m throbbing all over. I pull her panties over her hips and she steps out of them. And it’s right in front of me. The most sensitive part of her, already swollen, peeking out from the folds. I take a gentle shot at it with my tongue, payback for what she’d done to me earlier. I want nothing more than to keep going, stroke her clitoris with my tongue until she screams my name, but… not yet.

I stand up and hold her to me, pin the throbbing monster of my erection between our bodies and kiss her once more. It’s time to move to the bed and she wraps herself around me so I can carry her over without separation. I move against her once more, nothing but skin upon skin and it’s getting harder to hold myself back. She moves with me, opens herself when I kiss her, arches herself into me, but I want more. I want her to want me even more. I break her kiss and silence her protest with a finger to her lips.

Now is the time to make her beg for it.

I lift myself off of her and look down to see my own flesh pressing along the length of her midriff. Another moment of worry passes over me.

Make her ready. Take it slow.

I pause at her left breast, once more taking the nipple in my mouth until it is erect. I move to the other and do the same, not wanting it to get jealous. I continue down her sternum, down her midriff, penetrating her navel with my tongue, sliding lower.

Oh, and here it is. Red and swollen and throbbing. She squirms before me and I pause, waiting, knowing she can feel my breath on her. Finally, she moans. I give her clitoris the full length of my tongue, and already she’s so wet and I love the taste of her. I dip lower into her opening, testing, tasting, and go back to her clitoris. I run a finger just along the inside of her vulva, so wet and slippery, and slide it in. She tightens around me.

Finally, she calls my name.

She’s as ready as she’s ever going to be, but my erection is like hot lead in my hand and I’m still not sure about this.

There’s one more thing she can do, if she wants.

She agrees.

I lay back and let go. Oh, god, it’s all up to her now and I can’t think straight and she finally takes me in her hand. Her tongue, hot and wet on the head of my penis and thank god I’d taken care of things earlier or I’d have lost it right there. She pays me back with interest, covering me in wetness until she can’t stand it anymore.

Now… yes now… now… please…

She’s on top of me and it wasn’t my original plan but I think it’s best to let her do what she needs to do. She grinds against me, working up the nerve for penetration, wet and slick, and I move against her, slow and predictable, feeling the constriction of her opening as she finally settles it over me. Her eyes are closed but I watch as she moves over me, watch the agonized pleasure of her face. I slide my hands from her knees up her thighs to her butt, feeling her muscles flex in my hands as she rides me, slowly, so slowly easing herself around me. God, she’s so tight, so slippery-wet that she slides off. In again, I gain a little more depth each time and…

And suddenly she’s… oh, god, it’s happening. I’m barely tip-deep and she’s screaming and I feel the contractions of her orgasm as it grips the head of my penis. I let her ride it out, not having expected this to happen so soon. She opens her eyes and looks at me and I ask if she’s ok. Oh yeah, she’s more than ok.

She runs her tongue along my earlobe and I almost lose it again. She wants more.

Time to take this bull by the horns.

I hold her to me and roll us both over so I’m on top. I tease her, the tip of my penis against her clitoris.

I need to hear her say she wants this.

I need to hear her say my name.

She does both. She says _please_. Oh god, she’s _begging_. She’s arching against me and this stiff piece of flesh sticking out of me is _throbbing_. Slow, slow, slow. Tight and wet and… ah… got the tip in. She grips me in rhythmic pulses, but these are controlled… voluntary. She draws me in and I let myself go a little, thrusting through her drenched grasp. Slide in, slide out, slide a little deeper in, out, each movement through her sending shivers through me.

I’m all the way in now… somehow, she’s taken every inch of me. I bump up against her cervix; end of the line for both of us. Careful, careful, careful… She’s wrapped around me, she’s shaking, I’m shaking. I’m _so close_ and I fight it off. I don’t dare thrust or I’ll come too soon so I just rock into her instead and… am I moaning? Fuck, I’m moaning and I can’t do a thing about it. Is she moaning? She moves against me, she grips me, and…

I…

Oooaahhhh…

I’m a fucking firehose…

I’m a broken dam…

I explode into her and… thank god she’s coming again…

Hard hard hard in in in in

And just like that, I’m wiped out.

God, I’m exhausted.

I sink down to her. Her name tumbles out of my mouth and I love her so much and I hear my name on her voice.

I pull out… it almost hurts, now. She’s as exhausted as I am. On my side, I pull her in to spoon against me. One benefit about being a squishy is I can hold her tight and there’s no armor damage. Not sure it’s worth the tradeoff, but I’ll take it for tonight. She takes my hand in hers and guides me around her breast, her chest still pulling in air with long draws.

I curl around her, skin against skin, her body warm against mine.

Naked.

Vulnerable.

But safe.


End file.
